


Ex Animo-From The Heart

by fractalserpentine, HopeofDawn



Series: Strangers In A Strange Land [4]
Category: Legacy of Kain
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-14
Updated: 2010-10-14
Packaged: 2017-10-12 16:25:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/126813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fractalserpentine/pseuds/fractalserpentine, https://archiveofourown.org/users/HopeofDawn/pseuds/HopeofDawn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kain teaches Raziel a new spell ... and learns a few new things himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ex Animo-From The Heart

**Author's Note:**

> A bit of explanation: this was originally written for a long-running crossover RPG called Multiverse Haven (now sadly defunct). The basic premise of the game was that characters had been pulled from multiple worlds and marked as Chosen, in order to eventually restore a dying multiverse. There may be occasional references to characters and some borrowed vampire terminology from other canon sources. The main focus is on Kain and Raziel and their return to Nosgoth, however, and will eventually weave in and around LoK canon as an entirely separate storyline.
> 
> As a Chosen, both Kain and Raziel have been plucked from their respective timelines and from Nosgoth--only to be trapped within this strange world called 'Haven', and left subject to the whims of mysterious 'Powers'. Needless to say, this does not go over well ...

Kain sometimes had to wonder what the Powers were thinking when they created placeholders.

As human as they looked, most of them -- most particularly those which rarely or never had Chosen contact -- were blindingly stupid when it came to Chosen. Kain could abduct and hog-tie one in the middle of the street, and the placeholders nearby would gawk for a time and then wander away. Uninjured placeholders did not typically even call for help once they were confined. So while it was convenient and easy to bind a few dozen placeholders and stack them like squirmy cordwood in an empty parking lot, it was also somewhat disturbing.

The place of parking was mere blocks from Raziel's abode -- perhaps the elder vampire's expectations of ineffectual resistance had influenced the local placeholders? -- and at last Kain brushed himself off and checked the sky. The sunset was just fading; Raziel should be active and preparing to make his customary rounds by now. Leaving the pile of captives, Kain went in search of the winged vampire.

Raziel was not hard to find. He had taken a customary perch upon a nearby building to survey his territory, prior to the night's hunting. He had noticed the eddying of placeholders near where Kain had undertaken his stockpile, and wondered at it—but had not ventured further just yet. Instead he waited, watching the moon rise and the sun fall as they had so many times before.

Raziel's aura was so encompassing, it was occasionally difficult to pinpoint exactly where he was. But Kain realized quickly enough that the elder was someplace higher than his aerie, though nearby. Kain scanned the nearby rooftops, then raised a hand. "Good evening, Raziel," he called. "I intend to work upon teleportation this night; would you care to join me?"

Raziel looked over, pinpointing the faint call. Down—over there, where the disturbance was. Hardly surprising, in retrospect.

Intrigued by the offer, he stood up straight. Catching the wind was a matter of simply spreading his wings, and after a few moments' gliding he touched down on the street below where Kain awaited. "Good eve, Kain. You intend to test the spellworkings we found upon that crystal?"

"Indeed," Kain said, watching the perfect, smooth glide, swift but with all the fine adjusting motions of a kestrel aloft on a sea-breeze. "I have had no luck to date with placing more than one endpoint; multiple-person teleporting has been far easier." That latter was actually quite simple; Kain had learned how to teleport himself and another before finding himself trapped in Haven. It had been a useful skill to hunt with -- to remove his prey to quieter surrounds.

In truth, it was group-teleportation which Kain intended to be certain Raziel learned, regardless of what else they discovered. Not out of any particularly charity, but rather because he realized that Raziel might end up teleporting Kain at some time in the future. And it was all too easy to make rather... messy mistakes with the group-teleportation portion of the spell. "I have amassed a number of practice subjects, naught but a few blocks from here. Have you a few hours this evening?"

Intrigued, Raziel gave him a brief nod. "Certainly." He had practiced teleportation on his own, but in this area he was far behind Kain, who was more practiced in its use. He stepped forward, and spotted the placeholders in their squirming, bound state. "You have come prepared, I see," he said with some amusement. "Where do you think is a proper place to begin?"

Kain watched Raziel fold his wings with precise, neat little tucking movements. Such a wonder that their broad surfaces could be compacted so cleanly, so efficiently. Kain led Raziel towards the broad, nearly empty place of parking, where the placeholders lay -- and also where Kain had left a bucket of 'sidewalk chalk.'

Most of the spell was already drawn out on the pavement -- white marks on the smooth black. "There seems to be two segments to the spell; this first involves teleporting one's self and others, the second, I presume, sets multiple end points. Have you tried making modifications to the former?"

Raziel glanced sideways, then admitted, "...somewhat. Sadly, without success. Part of the problem may be that I do not understand the true meanings of the runes used in explaining it." Recognizing the symbols of the Ancients was one thing—reading quite another. And Raziel had never been much of a scholar, no matter how much Haven had forced him into that role.

"I have had a modicum more success with teleporting myself and another, but even then ... " It was chancy whether the spell succeeded or not, and when it didn't, the consequences were not at all desirable, as he had found to his chagrin.

"Hn," Kain murmured. So Raziel had already experienced the consequences of a failed teleportation. What a pity; Kain had hoped to introduce him. There was nothing quite like showing up at one's destination with the quivering remains of half a placeholder to enliven one's evening a little. "These three runes," Kain tapped a set, "seem to govern the number of bodies teleported." He handed over a thick chunk of chalk. "Show me in what manner you were altering them?"

"Very well. I had altered this one thus, thinking that it would change the limit of the power expended ..." Taking the chalk, Raziel clumsily sketched out what he had tried. It was more difficult for him than it was for Kain's more humanlike fingers, but he was not about to be defeated by such a trivial problem.

As it turned out, his adjustments to the spell had thus far been rather basic. Some of them had been successful—adapting it to the greater power the elder vampire could wield, for one thing—but most had not. Raziel's face was intent and focused, ebony strands of hair falling into his eyes as he drew, listened, and even occasionally debated with Kain on the best approach.

Kain noted Raziel's dexterity with the thick chalk. While the wrist and elbow had their full range of movement, the sharp edges and thickness of the talons seemed to make writing difficult. The breadth of the chalk seemed, if anything, not great enough -- the elder almost seemed to need something thicker, perhaps the width of Kain's forearm in cross section, to grip.

But Raziel yet managed adroitly. And some of the attempts at the spell he had made were marvelous indeed. Raziel had made leaps of logic that Kain had not even considered, simply because of the staggering amount of power required -- Raziel had made a half-dozen changes that, taken one at a time, would have nearly put the spell out of Kain's reach. Taken all together.... Kain settled back on his heels, thinking.

"I believe the group-teleport section requires little more than finesse," said Kain. Though the power required did increase exponentially with each body transported -- Kain was able to manage himself and two or three others, but no more. Kain selected another segment of chalk. "This is what I have done, and it appears to function reliably. Would you care to try it with some placeholders?"

"Certainly." Straightening, Raziel dusted off his knees, heedless of the chalk dust that still adorned his hands. "I think I shall want to change the endpoint of the spell, however. Dropping placeholders—or parts of placeholders—in my eyrie is not an outcome I would prefer."

Kain chuckled softly as he watched Raziel perform the ritual to relocate his endpoint to the center of the place of parking. "Have you ever altered the second rune? One can cause the placeholders to quite literally explode." Raziel had also, evidently, been experimenting with the endpoint portion of the spell; again using sheer, raw power to complete the placement in far less time that it took Kain. A little more soberly, Kain handed over a pair of bound placeholders.

"It would be a tempting prospect to try and turn the spell into a weapon, if not for the power you had to expend for such a simple result," Raziel remarked dryly. Especially when flays, implodes, or one's own talons achieved the same results with a great deal less effort.

He took the two placeholders, a man and a woman, holding them easily, if without a great deal of tenderness. Both pseudo-humans were terrified, breathing hard and whimpering behind their gags, but did not otherwise struggle. Helpful, that. Stepping closer to the runes, he looked down at them once more, fixing their shapes firmly in his mind. Then he closed his eyes, and drew upon the well of his power, and *reached*

One of the placeholders survived intact, though unconscious. The second did not. As Raziel appeared at his designated endpoint, he felt the man slip from his grasp—just *dissolve*, like water through his talons. There was no explosion, nor a corpse or even leftover bits of meat. Just a fine bloody spray that hung in the air for a moment, then fell, anointing the ground and vampire alike.

"Damn," Raziel said with mild annoyance, surveying his surroundings.

"Not to mention the resultant mess..." said Kain, starting for Raziel. He put his hands together and, slowly, began to clap. "Though one must admit it does make for a fine show. I have never even seen that happen before," he said, with somewhat wry interest. Raziel was well and truly coated. Not quite to the point of dripping, but very close.

"You needs must wrap that which you intend to transport more thickly, methinks," Kain said, insinuating himself close against Raziel's front and pushing aside the unconscious placeholder. Blood spread to the white leather of Kain's light armor, staining him most agreeably. "With ribbons of power, rather than wires. Try it." He licked a little of the thin-tasting blood from the soft skin of Raziel's cheek.

Raziel's hand slipped easily around Kain's waist, drawing him nearer, even as he let the placeholder drop to one side. With easy strength he walked them both back a few paces, away from his endpoint—then growled a little and took Kain's lips in a brief, fierce kiss.

"Very well—but since I prefer to have you in one piece, you may not want to distract me," he murmured against Kain's mouth.

Kain returned the hard, abrupt kiss, growled a little when Raziel pulled back enough to speak. "The Sarafan will grant you no such reprieve," Kain laughed lowly, and ducked to Raziel's throat, first laving, then nipping at the angle of his jaw. He worked a hand between their bodies, found one of Raziel's nipples and traced it, then pinched. He moved in slow undulation, rocking his hips against Raziel's. "Concentrate," Kain whispered, even as he unfurled his own senses, feeling for the rise of magic that would mark Raziel's invocation of the spell.

Raziel raised his eyebrows at Kain's taunt, then gasped as the younger vampire did his level best to arouse him—and succeeded quite admirably. "As you wish—though if Q ends up piecing you together from scattered chunks, do not say I didn't warn you," he said, moving even closer, wrapping his other arm about Kain until the line of their bodies was pressed so tightly together no gap remained. He breathed in Kain's scent, young and vigorous, felt a silver tendril of hair caress his cheek.

Then, closing his eyes, Raziel did as he was instructed—using his power, flinging it about them both like a net, even the rising pleasure Kain had kindled, until they were tightly tied together. Then he reached out, and grasped that other space in which he wanted to be—

—and in a flash of light, they both appeared where they had been just moments ago.

Feeling Raziel enwrap him in power was like unto being caught up in a flood. Kain felt as if he were enveloped in a blanket of black adantium -- very different from the more subtle ribbons of power he was able to muster in order to teleport multiple entities. Far more powerful. He did not know if it would be as effective -- did not in that moment care, as Raziel's arms around his waist tightened.

And then, as smooth and easy as taking a step, they were a few strides away, back where they had started. Unlike the times Kain teleported even just himself, there was no disorientation or lingering tingling sensation, just the brightness of a flash of light in the place they'd departed. "Magnificent, Raziel," Kain crooned, thrumming his approval, making no move to try backing away. Indeed, he pressed against Raziel, trying to back him up a few steps, even as he reached to stroke along the small of Raziel's back, up to just brush against those sensitive wingjoints. "Do it again."   
.   
Blinking away the momentary disorientation brought on by the teleport, Raziel felt himself further pushed off-balance by Kain's voice, his touch on his wings. His grip tightened as he gasped, and lowered his head to give the corner of Kain's jaw a teasing, fierce nip.

"Insatiable creature," he mock-grumbled, knowing he would have never dared say this to his sire before. Then, when they had backed up far enough, he closed his eyes, trying to ignore the temptation of Kain's body pressed against his. It was difficult, although the possessive relish he felt at his sire's nearness helped—once again he flung power around them both, a little less, perhaps, but not enough to risk Kain's safety, and teleported them both back to where they began.

Kain laughed lowly, lapping a long line of skin clean from the base of Raziel's throat to the underside of his chin. The placeholder blood was as thin as ever, but the scent of the elder vampire beneath leant it a most agreeably piquancy. The enchanted leather armor under Raziel's claws was thin and flexible -- transmitting sensation -- but did not part against the murderous edges of those talons. "How could I find satiation, with such nectareous abundance before me?"

Kain pushed them both back once again, deliberately not giving Raziel a moment to catch his bearings. "Again, Raziel -- faster." Kain stroked delicately over the wingjoints and simultaneously, with his free hand, clawed at Raziel's side, scoring bloody furrows through the tough skin there.

The disorientation was the same, though Raziel was starting to become used to that—however, Kain's dark voice purring in his ear, his claws in Raziel's flesh, all conspired to send the elder vampire back to a time when obedience was ingrained, expected. Wordlessly, he did as he was commanded, again and again, his focus narrowing down to the spell-workings until it was almost second nature to carry another with him as they magically transported himself from place to place, until he was gasping and dizzy from the power expended.

Kain halted when the threads of power enwrapping him became little greater than what he himself was able to command, when neither pain nor pleasure affected Raziel's technique in the least part. "Well done, Raziel," he said, solidly and subtly supporting much of the elder's weight. He tried to draw both of them to their knees, still stroking, though without such intent as before -- just calming, murmuring praise. As much as he longed to take advantage of Raziel's disorientation, this place where bright yellow lines painted alien black pavement, and the sounds of distant horseless carriages and multitudinous placeholders impinged upon the senses, seemed... wholly inadequate.

He'd ask Raziel if the elder planned to return to Nosgoth soon, Kain resolved, lapping at some of the half-dried frosting of blood that coated Raziel. For the sake of Kain's tenuous sanity, as much as for the Reaver's hunger. He tried to card his fingers through Raziel's thick hair -- found that his fingers caught. "We shall have to clean you up," Kain said wryly, "before this dries overmuch." The coating was pervasive enough to perhaps require water to handle. Kain found the thought of Raziel in pain -- or rather, pain of which Kain was not the cause -- oddly displeasing.

Raziel sank to his knees with a distant feeling of gratitude. He was not unused to the effects of learning a new spell, but that did not make them any more pleasant—and it had been some time indeed since he had learned new magicks that had not entailed stealing them from another's soul. Oddly enough, showing such weakness in front of Kain did not bother him. He licked at his lips, tasting dried blood, and his hunger also made itself felt. He had not drained himself dry, but he would definitely need to hunt soon.

At Kain's words, Raziel raised a hand, fingering his own hair with a rueful look. "A troublesome task, but better than looking like the town butcher, I suppose," he commented.

A troublesome task indeed, Kain knew, licking blood from one of Raziel's delicately pointed ears. The fine mist had gotten everywhere. He noticed Raziel licking his lips, and knew that particular response well. Once certain that Raziel was solidly upright, Kain moved enough to hook his claws into the bindings of the unconscious placeholder, still laying where she had fallen, and dragged her closer. There were other unused placeholders still bound near the edge of the place of parking, too, if one was not sufficient.

Kain opened a pocket and removed a hand towel -- found that it did little to remove the drying blood from Raziel's skin and armor. "I fear I shall have to wet this," Kain said, a note of something like apology in his tone.

"There is a lake nearby," Raziel said without thinking. "'Twould be easier to simply bathe there than to effect haphazard attempts here."

Kain had been immersed in water before -- he shuddered. "Are you mad? There is hardly any need to...." Then the utter nonchalance of Raziel's tone sunk in. "What?"

Even as Kain had begun to speak, Raziel had realized what he had given away. The bane of vampires, the one thing humans had in abundance to use against them—water. And Raziel no longer suffered its ill effects, thanks to Rahab.

He did not wish to explain how he came by such a gift to Kain. Instead he said calmly, "I am no longer vulnerable to water, Kain. Immersion will not harm me." Stating it as if it were a matter of no consequence.

Kain's eyes narrowed a little. He himself was much less vulnerable to water than he had been, during his first few weeks as undead. But to be completely immune? That was a wonder that perhaps even surpassed Raziel's elegantly useful claws. "This change occurs over time? Is there aught that can be done to hasten it?"

Looking regretful, Raziel shook his head. "It does come with age, but it is a rare gift, one that few are granted. Most vampires must still fear water's touch." Raziel could hardly gloat in this advantage over Kain—not now, at least.

Kain settled back on his heels. There was a certain element of threat implicit in this revelation -- from the wording, Kain supposed that he himself would never acquire such a splendid aspect; perhaps Raziel would always have such an advantage over Kain, when they two met hundreds of years in Kain's future. But then... Raziel was so vastly powerful already -- more rightly a dark god than any being Kain had ever encountered. Kain supposed it should not surprise him that Raziel surmounted vampirism's weaknesses even as he embodied the pinnacle of its strengths.

Neither, of course, could Kain deny the spark of jealously. Raziel could swim, could wash the blood from his skin with ease. What other surprises did the elder hold in reserve?

"Very well, then," Kain said at last. "Let us to the lake -- I know the nearby one you speak of."

Raziel had not missed the spark of temper as Kain realized that he might not share in such a gift—even as well-hidden as it was, Raziel knew his sire's moods far too well. Kain did not demand further answers or explanations, however, for which Raziel was grateful. Inclining his head in acknowledgment, Raziel inquired, "Would you care to fly, or rather remain on the ground?" It was a short walk and shorter flight, so it hardly mattered for anything other than personal preference.

Kain stood and offered his hand. "I will fly there," Kain stated. The lake made for a most prominent landmark, after all. "Feed, if you will, and then join me." A few moments to give this matter due consideration, as well as to ensure that the water within the lake was truly what it seemed, would be welcome.

Accepting the hand up, Raziel straightened. The dizziness and weakness had fled, if not the Hunger.

"As you like. I shall meet you there shortly, then." Raziel's unwitting revelation had cooled things between them somewhat, and not for the first time, he wished he knew what Kain was thinking. Did he think Raziel a liar? Who would not, given such an outrageous claim?

Turning away, he took the few steps necessary to haul up the nearest placeholder. A last sidelong glance, then he bent his head and sank fangs into her neck, gulping down the thin blood. Letting Kain leave without further interference.

Kain departed swiftly, in a flurry of small, dark-winged bodies. The park was quite close, as Raziel had noted, and Kain rematerialized upon the sloped, grassy bank of the large pond. It was quiet here, fragrant with spring growth. The air was still warm -- the water would be shockingly chill with snowmelt, but there might be newts or tadpoles just awakening from their winter's sleep. If one could swim.

The pond would have been near-circular, save for a rocky outcropping that jutted out. Kain went to one knee at the end. The stars were reflected in the glassy water -- they scattered when he dipped his fingers in among them. Kain supposed he would grow used to the burn of this eventually -- but even after nine years, whenever he touched upon water, some part of Kain always expected to feel nothing but wetness.

Kain withdrew his fingers and shook the water off before it could do very great damage. He watched the ripples fade and allowed himself a short, soft sigh. Then he stood and turned.

After a short time, Raziel arrived.  Not flying this time, but walking through the emptied streets, booted feet ringing loud upon concrete and stone before he stepped off onto the greener sod that surrounded the pond.  His face was neutral as he approached Kain, nodding to him as if they had not parted ways only a short while before.

"My thanks for repast," he said courteously. Knowing Kain would not wish to approach too close to the water's edge, he found a rocky outcropping on which to kneel. Without fanfare, he dipped hands into the liquid, dark reddish tendrils swirling away from his skin, enjoying the cool kiss of the water as it left him unharmed.

"They were your placeholders, in any case," Kain pointed out, watching as Raziel knelt by the water. After a moment, Kain walked out to the end of the small, stony pier and crouched cautiously beside Raziel. He'd developed a healthy respect for the damage water could inflict, but... he wanted a closer look. And the thought of permitting Kain's weaknesses to dictate his behavior was quite abhorrent. Kain watched silver minnows in the shallows flee like streaks of stardust in the water as blood dissolved from Raziel's skin. Kain sat back, drew up a knee and rested an elbow upon it. "Can you swim?" he asked, doing his best to make the question seem an idle one.

"Inexpertly, but ... yes." Raziel gave him a sidelong glance, but decided not to say more. Let Kain ask the questions he wanted.

Kain watched the perfect cream-white of Raziel's skin under the water. "Does it feel the same? As when you were human?" he queried.

"I ... do not know," Raziel said slowly in reply. He moved his fingers, watched the ripples spread. "I do not remember being human." It was not such a great secret in the scheme of things, even if it was another piece of Kain's puzzle.

"Verily?" Kain said, looking up in surprise. "Are you that old?" Kain knew how easy it was to forget the particulars of human life, even after a double handful of years. But even if Kain lived for hundreds of years, he did not think he would ever forget swimming. And Raziel's memory was exemplary, so far as Kain had noted.

"I am ... " Raziel said, smiling slightly at Kain's astonishment. "But I have not become senile because of it, like some human." He gave a brief, dismissive shrug. "I have never remembered anything from my human life, even as a new-made fledgling."

"I did not think you senile," Kain sniffed. Well, perhaps he had for a moment, upon first meeting Raziel -- Haven was a mad realm, and the telling of it made for a daft and disjointed tale... even if the story was a true one. Kain opened a dimensional pocket and drew forth several hand towels, which he set beside himself. He dampened one in the cold, clear water, and made to start at some of the blood that coated Raziel. Kain had yet to determine why the blood of some creatures vanished swiftly here in Haven, whilst that of others did not. "Have you plans to return to Nosgoth soon?"

"I had thought on it, but made no real decisions as of yet," Raziel said easily. He was ... a bit surprised that Kain would lower himself to minister to him (with water, no less!), but he certainly wasn't about to gainsay him. "You wish to return, then?"

Kain could easily admit himself a little surprised that Raziel would permit the casual touches. Had he such enormous, manifest puissance, Kain would certainly have been a little less tolerant, particularly given that the cloths were a feeble excuse to touch Raziel in the first place. Kain passed the wetted square of fabric to his other hand and continued when his fingertips began to sting too badly.

"I do so wish, yes." It was far more difficult for Kain to bend his pride to the point of requesting a boon such as this. The need to depend upon the largesse of the hugely powerful elder was infuriating, though he hardly bore ill will against Raziel for the injustice.

"Very well," Raziel said easily. Returning to Nosgoth was certainly no hardship, despite the dangers that awaited there. He studied Kain for a moment, then asked, "Do you have a place or a goal in mind for your return?"

Kain tossed the bloody fabric away and dampened another. Raziel's skin, despite its wondrous toughness, was very fine in texture -- like porcelain. Once a little wetted, blood came away easily. Kain's own skin was easier to clean than he remembered it -- a very good thing indeed, given how little water Kain could comfortably withstand -- but it was not so silky as this. "You recall the pillar of dimension? Its state continues to trouble me. I would seek out the cause of its decay, if I can." The reason for Kain's desire to do so now, rather than any other time, stemmed more from the Reaver, of course. It had been more than a month since the blade had fed properly. The more irritable the blade seemed to become, the more Kain was forced to keep it contained in a dimensional pocket. It reacted in unpredictable ways to other Chosen -- perhaps even to Haven itself, and Kain knew not why. He shrugged off the train of contemplation. "I would depart soon, if you are willing."

"I am willing enough, though I will need a little time in which to collect some extra provisions." Raziel could live off the land if he had to, but it was always better to be prepared. Especially in Kain's era, where no Empire stood to ensure the safety of vampires. "If you are willing to wait until the moon is at its zenith, I can accompany you back tonight." Though truthfully he was loathe to move from this spot, and the cool comfort of Kain's attentions. The hands moving over his flesh and the water trickling over his skin were both surreal and intensely pleasurable.

Kain laughed softly. "I am not so churlish as to give you so little warning as that," He said. Kain had supplies to acquire as well, and in addition needed to finalize a number of his affairs. Raziel's face had been somewhat bloodied; Kain cupped along his cheek, passing the roughness of damp fabric across the elder's smooth skin, trailing the tips of his nails over an elegantly arched brow. "At the very least, 'twould be best to try refining the teleportation magic before we depart. Perhaps a tenday -- the ninth of April?"

"Mmnh," Raziel said eloquently, leaning subtly into the touch. "A tenday will be more than enough time, I should think." It wasn't as if he had to marshal an army, after all.

Kain thrummed a little, the deep rumble building in his chest. A crimson trickle traced down Raziel's jawline -- dried blood newly wetted -- and Kain leaned forward, lapped it from the preternaturally fine skin. He reached to run his fingers through Raziel's hair -- found that dried blood had tangled the locks. Kain paused, then reached out and breathed a word. One of Haven's strange 'plastik' bottles came to hand, half-full of water. Kain made use of such water, a very little at a time, to clean himself when a scraper was inadequate -- his own hair sometimes took hours to keep satisfactorily clean. Raziel's resistance to water was a wonder indeed. "Lean over," Kain murmured in Raziel's ear.

Giving him a sardonic look, Raziel did what he asked, even as he said, "I could simply jump into the water, if you like. It might save you a great deal of effort." Though it wouldn't be nearly as pleasurable as Kain ministering to him.

Kain snorted softly, tugging on a glove with his teeth. "If it is all the same to you, I'd prefer not to see you in the lake..." Kain had trudged through thigh-deep swamps, had forded streams before he'd gained the ability to disassociate into mist. Even if he intellectually knew Raziel no longer found water's touch unkind, the thought of seeing the elder in so much water made his skin crawl. He concealed the faint shudder by pouring a little of the bottled water over Raziel's glossy hair, working loose the dried blood with gloved fingers. Red-tinged water dripped into the starry lake. "...not even should your swimming prove more adroit than you claim."

 _I would prefer not to see you in the lake ..._ The words dropped like stones into the silence between them, spreading ripples of choices not yet made outward. Raziel kept his head bowed, grateful that the dripping strands of his hair concealed his face. After a moment's pause, once the shadow of the future had passed, he said mildly, "I shall spare you my thrashings, then."

"You have my sincere appreciation, Raziel," Kain said wryly. In point of fact, he was not certain he could manage a proper cleanup without a great deal more water. But he was patient, and he had plenty of towels.

And, for now, there was time.

There was little else, in this damnable place. Kain paused to flick trickles of burning water off his hands and wrists, and stopped once to refill the bottle. He discarded a half-dozen hand towels -- fortunate that this world contained them in such abundance. But eventually, the blood came away. Kain swiped at a few last specks on the elder's smooth skin, and then settled back to deal with the stain that coated his own armor.

Slicking back dripping strands of hair away from his face, Raziel noted idly his hair was getting longer—he would need either cut it, or else begin tying it back again. His armor still was liberally speckled with blood, especially in the crevices where a towel could not reach, but that could easily be remedied with a little attention. In the meantime, it hardly bothered him.

Instead he watched Kain tend to himself. Their close embrace had left bloody smudges in awkward places; intent upon returning the favor, Raziel took up one of the dampened towels and attended to others Kain could not reach, carefully avoiding the skin beneath the soiled armor.

Kain thrummed a little, tilting his head in pleasure at the touch. There were numerous crevasses and divots to his thin leather armor -- places that made proper care difficult when Kain was wearing the pieces. He let Raziel tend to the armor, and found a dry towel with which to start on the elder's hair. He'd not noticed the length of it before -- Kain tugged off his glove and tossed it with the dirtied towels. He traced his nails across Raziel's scalp, through the still-stingingly wet hair, fisted his hands in the tactile pleasure. So very thick -- and strangely soft, to frame the perfect severe symmetry of Raziel's features.

Raziel chuckled a little to himself as Kain's fingers threaded through his hair. Unconsciously tilting his head against the stroking motions, much like a cat, he said quietly, "It is odd to see you with such a short mane ..." Even the Kain of his fledgling days had silver hair reaching well past his shoulders, vanity and a symbol of defiance, of confidence, all in one.

Kain rewarded the small motion with longer stroking gestures, tracing the pad of a finger over the soft curve of Raziel's slightly pointed ear. "When will I meet you, then?" When, of course, an escape from Haven was won. Kain was not certain how the timestream would progress, exactly, with both an elder and a younger Raziel -- and a sword, for that matter -- all contemporary. But it did not matter; Kain could force it to work, he was sure.

"Not for some time," Raziel said slowly, wondering how Haven might have altered things from what he knew. "A few centuries, at the very least. Ample time to address your coiffure," he added slyly, trying to distract from the mention of his younger self.

"An estimate spanning some centuries is hardly..." Kain started, then growled. "Had I a tolerable method of keeping them clean, no doubt I would sport fine tresses such as yours," Kain thrummed, tonguing a fang. He traced the pad of a thumb across Raziel's brow -- so different from his own pale eyebrows, which only just showed up against his skin.

Was Kain still trying to wash with *water*, even after all this time? He found it hard to credit, but .... Those eyebrows rose under Kain's touch, Raziel looking both amused and disconcerted.

"It is not difficult, Kain, if one puts some thought into it. Water may be vampires' bane, but there are other liquids that will serve. Though admittedly, acquiring them can be a nuisance, at least in Nosgoth. Here, you will find no such limitations." He threaded talons through the ends of short silver strands once more, finding them remarkably clean in spite of Kain's words.

Kain snorted softly. He'd become accustomed to the discomfort of washing, and carried scrapers and combs with which to curry the dust and blood of battle from his body. When those did not suffice, he turned to water -- spirits burned him less, to be sure, but he misliked the odor and residue of beer, wine, whiskey, and all the multitude of other liquors he had tried. It was fortunate he no longer sweated nor secreted oils as did a human; still, Kain's weaknesses were damnably inconvenient. He drew back enough to let slip the silver of his hair over Raziel's talons. "And what liquids are those?" he said shortly.

Raziel tilted his head. "Alcohol, Kain," he said simply. "Distilled to its essence, so that it is nigh undrinkable for humans. It strips away grime quite admirably, however, and leaves little foulsome odors behind, as lesser vintages do." He did not try and recapture the strands of hair as Kain pulled away. If Kain thought his words a criticism of his appearance—well, he did not have to look far downward to know the truth of the matter.

Kain sat back a bit, the corner of his mouth turning upward in thought. "A tremendous discovery, that," he said. But how was it possible to build stills proof against noisome contamination, as well as capable of removing all water? He'd assumed it impossible and had not considered the question further. But now it did not matter -- Kain would command it be done, and allow the placeholders to devise a means. And he'd carry knowledge of such a device back to Nosgoth, to await a time when he could marshal the means to build it. Kain laughed softly, a little ruefully. "I thank you. The solution had not occurred to me."

"It is not obvious," Raziel agreed. "It took some time and a great many foulsome attempts before—" he stopped short, realizing his tongue had led him astray. He did not want to speak of Melchiah to Kain! "—before another figured out the necessary methods to achieve a result palatable to a vampire nose." He snorted. "Here, it is absurdly simple—the spirits one requires are sold by Haven merchants. One can obtain them as easily as a housewife would buy a loaf of bread."

Kain reached out imperiously to brush droplets of water from the perfect, smooth skin of Raziel's angular cheek. "Then that other is due a measure of gratitude, as well," Kain murmured, eyes a little slitted in thought at Raziel's pause. He settled back to one hip. Raziel's era -- eras, given that the elder must have lived through untold ages -- must have been full of wonders indeed. Even simple advances, such as better distillery equipment, must have made a world of difference in everyday existence. And... there must have been others, like Raziel. "Tell me of the ages through which you lived," said Kain. "Were there other discoveries of such importance?"

"Many, though it is difficult to say what one would consider 'important', at least in retrospect," Raziel said thoughtfully.  Few Chosen in Haven had ever asked questions of him—and none about the Empire.  As bitterly as it ended, Raziel still could not forget the days when vampires finally ruled, and could walk abroad without fear, as lords of all Nosgoth.  Those memories were bittersweet now;  but no less precious for it. 

If he were careful—chose his words well, and named no names ... perhaps it would be safe to tell Kain of the empire he would create, at least in part. Raziel wavered for a moment, then succumbed to the temptation. Shifting until he sat more comfortably, he flicked a damp strand of hair away from his eyes, and considered what to say. "At first, there was little in the way of such discovery—only such rude amenities as what could be stolen or taken with brute force from the villages and towns." His mouth quirked. "Warriors do well enough on the battlefield, but we tend to be rather useless in the smithy or the potter's shed."

He went on to tell of the beginnings of the empire, of the gradual increase in their numbers, until they could finally claim lands and create artisans of their own, and truly begin to build. The stars rose in the night sky as he did so, and the chill night air dried his skin as he spoke; Raziel did not notice, losing himself in weaving images of the past with his words.


End file.
